


One More Reason

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soccer, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Slow Burn, WynHaught - Freeform, at the end tho, detention buddies, this is one of those fancy high school w like dorms and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 04:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17318090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: “Your blazer is done up wrong,” she finally says.Nicole blinks and the hint of a grin kisses the corners of her mouth. “I know it is.”“Why don’t you fix it, then?”The edge of Nicole’s lips tug into another grin that lingers for longer than before. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”ORNicole Haught is Purgatory Prep's best soccer player, and Waverly Earp's worst enemy.





	One More Reason

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't played soccer since i was seven years old
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://please-say-nine.tumblr.com)

“Fuck her and her stupid fucking face.”

“Wynonna,” Waverly chastises.

“No. I’m serious. Fuck her and that dumb little smirk she wears every time she steals from me, like she’s not even trying.” Wynonna angrily flings the towel over her shoulder and yanks off her soccer jersey, covered in grass stains and blood from sliding too hard because _someone_ got in her damn way before she was able to make the goal that would’ve tied the score up.

“She doesn’t smirk,” Waverly lies. Wynonna’s cleats reek so she tries not to breathe in through her nose as she shoves them into her bag and zips it up. “Nicole Haught is—she’s not really your kind of person.”

Wynonna scoffs as she yanks the door to the gym open and the cool night air dries the sweat on her shoulders. “Are you kidding me? She’s _exactly_ my kind of person, and it’s infuriating. I’d respect the hell out of her if she didn’t wave it in my face like a goddamned white flag every time she beat me.”

“Red flag.”

“What?”

Waverly sighs. “Nothing.” The car door slams shut. “You’ll get her next time, you know. You were close today.”

“Yeah, until she tripped me and got away with it.”

Waverly knows Nicole is an asshole, but she’s not a cheater. But any consolation will do nothing to assuage Wynonna, not with a hand on the gear shift and a foot that never learned how to not dump the clutch. The car shrieks the whole way back to school. “She goes to your school, Waves. Talk some sense into her.”

“Doesn’t quite work like that.”

“Well? Don’t you have class with her? Tell her not to stick her foot where I’m dribbling or we’re going to start having some problems.”

“I’m not going to threaten Nicole Haught on your behalf.”

“Pussy.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and grabs her backpack from the car then leans in through the window. “Here’s a crazy idea, knucklehead. Stop ditching school to see Henry and get your grades up over at Ghost River so you can come back to Purgatory and be on the same team as her instead of her rival—then you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Hmm.” Wynonna’s hand knocks an empty bottle of jack from the dash and shrugs. “Nah. Have fun with Haughtsauce for me. See you next Saturday, kid. Hope I dropped you off at the right dorm.” She ruffles Waverly’s hair and the car screeches as she tries to shift it into third without moving before squealing out of the parking lot.

“What—Wynonna! You didn’t!” Waverly yells as she turns—her dorm is a mile away and the school season means cooler months, leaving her to hug her backpack in desperate attempt to stay warm. The truck executes a stunningly illegal left turn out of the parking lot and speeds off. “Fuck.”

“Holy shit, Waverly Earp curses? Didn’t know you even knew that word.”

The voice has her spinning, arms clenching tighter around her backpack in surprise. Nicole Haught sits on the hood of a truck, water bottle in hand and the red-yellow soccer uniform of Purgatory Prep, covered in grass stains. An old towel that’s clearly seen better years is slung around her shoulders. Bright orange hair that somehow manages to contrast well with the uniform is pulled back into a tight ponytail slicked with sweat.

Waverly chastises herself for noticing how damn _good_ she looks. “Haught,” she says stiffly. Her nose wrinkles.

“Earp.” Nicole nods and slides from the hood to land with all the grace of a varsity soccer player at a private school. “Next time you see Wynonna, tell her I said good game. She ditched the field pretty soon after it was over.”

“Sure hope it wasn’t your charming personality that made her want to leave.”

Nicole grins jauntily. The pale light of the parking lot lamp post throws her shadow yards to cover Waverly as she cocks her head. “I’m sure that wasn’t it. Anyway, you seem like you need a ride. Dorm A, right? Pretty far away from here.”

“I’ll walk,” Waverly snaps. Her words are sluggish as the cooler air numbs her lips.

“You’ll walk?” Nicole doesn’t seem taken aback; if anything a bit amused, and she leans back up against the driver side door and crosses one leg over the other, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t mind so much.”

The car beeps as it unlocks and she nods her chin for Waverly to circle around to the passenger side. Tentatively she does so, keeping her backpack pinned to her chest. “Look, if I was going to go all psycho and kill you, I’d lose my soccer scholarship, so you don’t have to worry about that happening. Homicide doesn’t look good on a transcript.” Nicole lets herself into the car and kicks it to life.

“You hate my sister,” is all Waverly says. The inside of Nicole’s car smells like vanilla dipped donuts and she forces herself to look past it, despite the fact that it _might_ be her favorite scent. Maybe.

“Wynonna? God no. One hell of a player. Bit of an asshole, though. Seems to have some kind of vendetta against me for dribbling better than she can.” Nicole shrugs and throws the car into first. “Do I turn left or right here?”

“Left.”

Nicole nods. “Why were you in that parking lot anyway?”

“Wynonna—”

“Is enough of an answer.”

Waverly shoots her a look. “Do you always have to be so arrogant?”

“Well.” Nicole glances over her shoulder and merges a lane; the pale of her skin contrasted with the aura of darkness shrouding the car makes her jawline even more defined. She turns into the dorm parking lot. “I’m already hot as hell, so it’s only fitting that I’m arrogant too. Consistency is key.”

Her voice sounds almost _bored_ , as if she’s spitting facts instead of boasting. “Oh, god.” Waverly rolls her eyes and ducks out of the car, backpack still clutched to her chest as though it’s her only life line.

She’s not quite sure what she’s drowning from yet.

“I’ll see you in school tomorrow, Waverly,” Nicole says, then throws her a wink and slides the car into first before disappearing over the horizon.

She’s not quite sure why she stands in the parking lot for another moment or two thinking entirely about red hair and a defined jawline, either.

 

“Ms. Haught.”

Nicole doesn’t even glance up, makes no acknowledgement that she’s heard Ms. Lucado in the slightest.

“ _Ms. Haught._ ”

She lifts her head lazily, cocks it, regards Lucado with cold, bored eyes. “Yes?”

“Am I interrupting you from whomever it is you’re _text messaging_ , Ms. Haught?”

Waverly supposes that the emphasis on _text messaging_ was presumably supposed to be a thinly veiled threat, but Nicole glances back down to what Waverly presumes to be the phone in her lap and Lucado before shrugging, nonchalant. “Kinda, yeah.”

All the red that in Lucado’s way-too-loud blazer seeps into her face until there’s practically steam shooting from her ears as she screeches out, “ _Detention!_ ” to which Nicole grins and fixes her impeccably buttoned blazer, salutes with two fingers, and excuses herself from the room without so much as a glance back.

It’s _not_ the sadness behind Nicole’s eyes that makes Waverly do it, and it’s _certainly_ not to do with the fact that she _may_ have enjoyed the car ride from last night and was possibly, a little bit, in some way, itching to spend more time with Nicole Haught that made her do it either, but her own stupidity. Her own inability to think through her actions sometimes before she did them (which really had always been more Wynonna’s style than her own).

But her hand raises, and a look of relief falls across Lucado’s face as she sees that it’s Waverly. “Well,” she starts, and can feel her ears burn red as the class turns to look at her and tries to stop herself as she realizes what she’s done, but it’s too late. She’s already said it. “To be fair, it was a rather boring lecture.”

 

“Detention, Ms. Earp?” Nicole’s hand clasps to her chest in feigned surprise when Waverly slouches in, bookbag over her shoulder and frowning Saturday morning before even the sun is awake. Getting detention in her last class on a Friday in the name of saving Nicole Haught’s fucking pride had been an excellent idea in theory and a blasphemous idea in execution.

Her dorm isn’t far away but the walk was cold and any strip of exposed skin that had been privy to the morning air burned as it attempted to dethaw. She makes a face similar to a snarl and drops herself into the furthest seat from Nicole that she can. Fitting, that they’d be the only two in there.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in detention before,” Nicole tries again. “And trust me, I’ve been to plenty.”

“Good for you.” Waverly keeps her eyes trained on the board, voice cold and clipped. Nedley’s going to come in at any minute to take roll and she’s already ready to be gone, Nicole Haught’s pride be damned.

“So what’d you do, then? To get in here.” The voice is fractionally closer and Waverly frowns with the knowledge that Nicole had bumped herself a seat closer. It’s unfair, really, how good she looks in a crumpled blazer; a complete dichotomy from what she exudes on the field. Soccer Nicole is calm, cool, collected. A fire in her eyes and a snarl on her lips; feral. But she’s all there, completely present. Never once missteps.

Detention Nicole is different. Her blazer is crumpled and buttoned incorrectly, tie hanging at an odd angle from her neck. The ends of her sleeves have clearly been pulled between worried fingers, strings raw and unkept. The only thing that seems put together was her hair.

Perfect, as fucking usual.

Waverly scowls harder, hears the unmistakable sound of Nicole jumping another chair. “Really, I’m dying to know. How does straight-edge straight-A Waverly Earp manage to swing a detention in the last class of the day? God damn shame I wasn’t there for it.”

“Shh,” Waverly hisses. She sinks further into her seat. “Nedley will be here any minute, and there’s a no talking rule. I learned that in the detention pamphlet.”

“Wait, wait, hold up.” Another chair screeches against the floor as Nicole sits herself into it. “You _studied_ for detention? I take it back, that’s exactly something Waverly Earp would do.”

Waverly’s ears burn red. “Asshole,” she mutters, burying her nose against her backpack.

“Nedley doesn’t care if we talk, you know.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and turns her back towards Nicole.

“And even if he did, he’s always an hour late on the dot. He thinks detention starts at eight instead of seven, so bonus point to me for ‘always being on time.’” She can feel the air quotes behind her as Nicole jumps another seat; there’s only a few left between the two and her stomach flips at the thought of the gap closing entirely.

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment as Waverly shuffles against her seat before turning back and regarding Nicole with something she hopes doesn’t come off too soft. “Your blazer is done up wrong,” she finally says.

Nicole blinks and the hint of a grin kisses the corners of her mouth. “I know it is.”

“Why don’t you fix it, then?”

The edge of Nicole’s lips tug into another grin that lingers for longer than before. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Waverly’s lips drop into a frown tandem to Nicole’s grin widening further. “Not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”

“Glad we made it back to me being an asshole.”

“Never left.”

The last chair that separated them becomes occupied as Nicole slides her way into it and rests her head on her chin, regarding Waverly. Maybe her eyes are a bit softer than last night, or Waverly’s just thinking too much about it, but she finds herself turning a bit more towards Nicole. Maybe just a bit. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me how you managed to land yourself in detention, and I’ll tell you why I’m wearing my blazer wrong.”

“I don’t particularly care why you buttoned your blazer wrong,” Waverly lies. “But you know what I do want to know? Nedley thinks detention is at eight, why not show up then, too? Save yourself an extra hour. Why bother showing up on time at all?”

“Ooh.” Nicole raps her nails against the desk and pretends to think for a moment. It’s unfortunate how good she somehow manages to look in the school required uniforms, even when said uniform has a button wrong. “That’s something you get to learn when I find out how you managed to land yourself a detention.”

A glance up to the clock reveals that’s it’s startlingly close to eight and her heart seizes at the idea of having to sit silently next to Nicole; something about talking to her is captivating in the most frustrating way. She blows a strand of hair out of her face and straightens her uniform before rolling her eyes. “I got detention because I told the truth.”

She expects Nicole to question it, to argue that that’s not an answer; instead she grins and runs her tongue over her teeth. “You’re an enigma, Waverly Earp.”

“You’re an asshole,” Waverly replies, but it holds no bite. “Your turn.”

“See you at practice this afternoon to find out,” she replies with a wink, than slinks back to the opposite end of the classroom, sitting as the door swings wide and Nedley shuffles in.

 

Against her better judgement, Waverly goes.

“This is dumb,” Wynonna says, sticking gum in her mouth and dumping the clutch. “You don’t even _like_ watching soccer.”

“That’s not true,” Waverly lies. She bites her lip. “I like watching your games.”

“Sure, my _games_. I’m not even practicing today.” She pulls into a parking spot and lurches forward as the car grinds to a halt. “Is this because Haught’s here? Are you trying to do some freaky recon shit to help me win our next game?”

Waverly frowns. It’s better than admitting that she _might_ enjoy spending some time with Nicole, especially to Wynonna, so she shrugs and hefts her backpack over her shoulder. “Thanks for the ride!”

Not bringing a jacket had been a terrible move; she folds her arms together and squints at Nicole, as if trying to stay warm from the heat of her anger alone. “Alright,” she calls, and Nicole glances up from where she’d been lacing her cleats on the bench. “I showed up, it’s cold, and I want to go back to my dorm to do homework. Why was your blazer done up wrong in detention today?”

A few of the players glance up at her with mild interest as Nicole laughs and pulls her legs up to the bench, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her arms; she recognizes a few of them from the hallways or classrooms.. “Not really a one sentence answer, Earp.”

Waverly glowers, but takes the bait anyway. It’s infuriating how well Nicole Haught knows how to push her buttons, and even more infuriating how easily she falls prey to it. “Fine.” Nicole cranes her neck up to glance at Waverly from the bench as she approaches. “Two sentences, then.”

Nicole laughs, and okay, the sound is _nice_. Somewhat. Maybe. Ever so slightly. “They can’t get mad at me for following the rules.”

“One sentence left; use it wisely.”

Nicole laughs again; a few of her teammates have stopped to listen absently to what she’s saying. “They can tell me to wear my blazer correct during school, but it’s not in the rules of detention.”

Waverly cocks her head. “I’m letting you have another sentence because that didn’t help.”

“Fair enough.” Nicole rubs her hands together and breathes into them for a second; it occurs to Waverly that she might be just as cold. Short shorts and a shirt can’t do much to protect against the rapidly approaching winter, and Nicole’s no doubt supposed to have been up and moving by now. Doesn’t change the fact that she looks damn _good_ in them though. “I follow the rules exactly like they want me to, and break them where they can’t touch me. I’ll wear my blazer right in school, but there’s nothing in the _detention pamphlet_ that says I have to wear it right. Just that I have to wear it.”

Waverly Earp may be an enigma, but Nicole Haught is an enigma shrouded in a conundrum. She decides that that’s probably worse.

“Why?”

“Hmm.” Nicole seems to think about it as she glances over the field. “I’ll see you in class in Monday, Earp.”

She supposes she should’ve been expecting that.

“Asshole,” she says again, but it’s more of an endearing term than it is an insult. And frankly, she uses it for Nicole Haught alone. Nicole must know it too, because she breaks out into a smile and laughs again under her breath.

“Get going, Earp. Wouldn’t want to be the reason you get behind on your homework,” she says, then shouts something to her team and they all break away down the field at a jog.

And it’s true, that Waverly has homework that she has to catch up on. But she sits down on the bleachers and watches the rest of Nicole Haught’s practice anyway.

 

Technically it’s Nicole’s team that wins the next game again Ghost River Prep, but when Nicole’s jogging off the field covered in sweat and grass stains and drenched in victory, she throws a wink to Waverly. So maybe it was just Nicole who won the game instead.

 

“You’re wrong, you know.”

Nicole’s eyes trail the hands on the table that lead to Waverly Earp, leaning over and glaring at her. She pulls her headphones out and glances around before lowering her voice; she’s in the library, after all. “What?”

Waverly’s voice lowers as well. “I said you’re wrong. You said you follow the rules, but you didn’t. You texted in class. Not allowed.” She leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Pleased with yourself?” Nicole asks.

Waverly blinks and says nothing.

“Well, in case you care, I wasn’t texting. I was thumb wrestling myself out of sheer boredom and Lucado made an assumption. Evidently you did, too.”

“Bullshit,” Waverly snaps, then glances around for a moment to make sure no one else heard her.

Nicole raises her eyebrows, unamused. “I’m not asking you to believe me.”

If Nicole Haught doesn’t cheat at soccer, doesn’t break the rules, maybe she doesn’t lie, either. _She’s awfully hard to hate when you get to know her,_ something in the back of Waverly’s head says; she crushes the thought before she can consider the validity of it and glares.

“Join me for homework?” Nicole asks, gesturing to the seat opposite her.

“I just…yelled at you.” Her backpack slides against the chair to pile against the ground as Waverly pulls herself into the seat. “And you want to do homework with me?”

Nicole blinks as if unsure why it’s a question. “Am I wrong in thinking we’ve become, dare I say it, friends since detention?” Her honesty takes Waverly back; it's a genuine question, not something that’s mockingly slipped off her tongue.

“No,” she says softly, and maybe there’s a bit of truth to that statement.

“Well.” Nicole clears her throat and digs through one of her folders until fishing one out and extending it towards Waverly. “Then good. Edit for me?”

So Waverly does.

 

“Okay, one last question, but I’m not showing up to your damn soccer practice again so you can give me an answer to something you could’ve just said in detention.”

Nicole blinks as she glances up from her history book where she’d been sketching a picture of two cavemen dueling with sticks. “When did you get my math homework out?”

“What?” The essay, which had been written impeccably to Waverly’s dismay, now laid a foot away on the table and a red pen sat between Waverly’s fingers. “Oh—it was…” She cleared her throat. “It was sticking out of your folder and I saw you’d spelled something wrong so I pulled it out to fix it and—well, most of this is spelled wrong.”

Nicole blinks again. “And?”

“And I want to know why.” She drags the essay back. “This was a fucking beautiful essay. Not a single typo in it, which is infuriating.”

Nicole nods slowly and throws her arms back, twining her fingers behind her head to review Waverly. “Only you could make such a nice compliment into an insult.”

“My _point_ ,” Waverly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is that just about every word longer than a few letters here is spelled wrong. All of the actual math is correct, but your spelling is atrocious. On the other hand, this!” She shakes the essay so hard that the pages clap together. “Not a single goddamn spelling mistake? Are you really so committed to your little rebellions that you’re purposely spelling things wrong on your homework?”

“Would you hate me if I told you I’d see you at soccer practice later?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” A heavy breath patters out from between Nicole’s lips. “Yeah, I am.”

Waverly waits for her to coinute her thoughts but the silence streches longer. “And?”

“And what?”

“Usually you have more to say.”

Nicole shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to like long answers. And either way, I’ve got to get changed. See you at practice; supposed to be a lot colder today, remember your jacket.”

Maybe Waverly would be a lot angrier about Nicole assuming she was going to show up if she hadn’t been planning on showing up, anyway.

 

“You’d better be getting some good shit on Haught,” Wynonna says, throwing the car into park in the soccer parking lot. “If I’m going to keep driving you here then I’m going to need something in return.”

“I keep you from suffocating on your own puke whenever you get too drunk.”

Wynonna barks out a laugh. “And you’re not doing either of us any favors, babygirl. Go do your weird recon shit, I’ll be back at eight again to pick you up. But I want _actual_ info this time, not your weird mopey silence while you stare out the window and refuse to sing along to Bruce Springsteen.”

Waverly rolls her eyes and presses a kiss to her sister’s cheek. “Yeah, see you at eight.”

 

“Well. I’m here. I came.”

Nicole nods solemnly and tightens her cleats. “Girls typically do, with me.”

“Hey!” Waverly socks her in the arm and Nicole reels back, laughing as her hand goes to comfort her shoulder.

“Damn, Earp! You get that strong from writing essays or what?”

“Asshole,” Waverly says. The laugh that bleeds into her voice pools at Nicole’s feet; she kicks at it awkwardly and tightens her fingers around the towel wrapped in her shoulders. Pulls anxiously at it like she might do to her earlobe. “I just—I had one last question to ask you.”

“You said that with your last question, too.”

“Yeah, well.” Waverly shifts from foot to foot. “I mean it this time.”

Nicole blinks and waits.

“Why do you do it? You wear your blazer wrong when you can, you spell words wrong when it doesn’t matter. It seems like none of it matters, you know? You’re not really proving a point in detention by wearing your school uniform wrong or misspelling words on your math homework because…I guess because it doesn’t do anything.”

Nicole takes a deep breath and pulls harder on the towel around her neck. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Oh, here we go.”

“I’m serious.” Nicole ducks her head and kicks at the grass for a second. “I’ll tell you if you go on a date with me.”

The ground drops out from under Waverly and her ears instantly blush red as she folds in on herself. “Oh…I…you mean, like, a _date_ date.”

Nicole’s voice has gone considerably softer, considerably less arrogant. “Yeah,” she says.

“I mean…” She chews her lip for a moment. “…No.”

There’s a single second where Nicole’s face falls before she masks it with a sad grin and kicks her feet against the grass again. “Oh, okay. That’s…I mean, cool, yeah, that’s cool.” Her fingers whiten from where she grips the towel around her shoulders. “Just thought I’d ask, but…no worries, hey?” She throws a half-assed wink at Waverly and ducks her head.

The blush in Waverly’s ears still hasn’t died and for the life of her she can’t figure out why. It’s cold out, it must be the cold. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Nicole’s demeanor instantly changes to something softer and more inviting. “Oh—no, Waves, don’t be sorry.” She gives the towel another yank, unwinds it from her neck, rewinds it. “You don’t—you don’t have anything to apologize for. If it’s…I didn’t want this to ruin anything.”

“No, no, it didn’t,” Waverly rushes. Her hand reaches out of its own accord to brush against Nicole’s shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting pat but instead sends a jolt of electricity down her spine. She draws her hand back as if she’d been burned. “I’ll…I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Nicole.”

“Sure. Yeah. Definitely.” Nicole nods her head and looks anywhere that isn’t Waverly’s face.

 

It’s the worst god damn practice Nicole has ever had.

 

Waverly manages to somewhat convince herself that the reason she doesn’t leave is because she doesn’t have a ride despite the fact that her dorm is a twenty minute walk from there, and the library half that. She also manages to somewhat convince herself that the reason she still watches the practice instead of finishing up her own essay has to be because of her severe interest in watching soccer plays.

She’s still not sure why her ears are so red.

 

“Nicole, hey!” Waverly calls. She shoves her history textbook in her backpack and flings it over her shoulder. “Wait up, wait up.”

“Waverly?” Nicole’s keys pendulum between her fingers. “What are you still doing here—aren’t you cold?”

“A little, yeah,” she lies. “I was just—.” She shifts from foot to foot again, stares at the contrast of Nicole’s jawline under the light of the overhead lamp in the parking lot. “Are you still up for that date?”

Nicole blanks, eyes widening. “What?”

“I just.” She mumbles something under her breath that Nicole can’t quite catch. “I want to go. On a date. With you.”

The keys stop swinging. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Waverly says. She hopes her voice sounds casual, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “Because I want to know why. You said you’d tell me why you do all that stuff if I go on a date with you, and, uh.” She holds her arms out as if to gesture to herself. “Here I am.”

A grin spread across Nicole’s face as she shakes her head. “Right. To know why. Totally.”

“The only reason.”

“The only reason,” Nicole agrees. Her smile grows dupey for a second before she nods her head. “Get in the car, weirdo.”

 

“Alright, go.” Waverly takes a sip of her smoothie and glances up at Nicole through her eyelashes.

Nicole looks like she might have a minor heart attack for a second before she clears her throat and nods. It’s not the ideal date situation; Waverly’s still in her school uniform from the day and Nicole’s wearing her grass stained practice clothes with a flannel thrown over in a dingy little milkshake shop, but somehow it feels perfect. “Have you ever actually played soccer yourself? I know you’ve probably been to every single one of Wynonna’s games, but have you ever played an actual game before?”

“I used to play games with Wynonna when I was little.”

Nicole nods and takes a tentative sip of her milkshake. “I mean, I guess it’s like; when you’re in a game, you have to follow the rules, right? Or you get kicked out. But they can’t tell you to dribble here, shoot there. They can tell you to keep the ball in between the four lines, stay out of the goalie’s box, don’t punch asshole players in the face, but they can’t control you in there. They can’t get you if you don’t break the rules.”

Waverly nods astutely. “You sound like a crazy person.”

Nicole laughs and takes another sip of her milkshake. “I’m aware that it sounds dumb.”

Waverly feels her ears go read again and her heart drops down to her stomach. “No! No, I didn’t mean that!” Her mouth bobs to try to find more words but stops when Nicole laughs again and chokes on her smoothie when she covers her hand with her own.

Her hands feel soft, warm, safe.

“Relax, Earp. I wasn’t finished yet, anyway.” She moves her hand off Waverly’s and suddenly the cold stings, burns her naked hand. “I do it because it’s what I know how to do. I win a lot of games because I stay in the lines but I create my own environment. It’s how I know how to win.”

It all clicks, in a heartbeat. “Showing up on time to detention.”

“Never a moment late.”

“But not telling Nedley. You haven’t broken a single rule.”

Nicole shrugs and grins through another sip of her milkshake and regards Waverly with something warmer than she’s anticipating. Butterflies kick up in her stomach. “I like you,” she finally says. “I’m really glad you said yes.”

 

“ _Waverly Earp_!”

Waverly freezes, eyes wide. _Fuck_. Her hands immediately search for her phone and drag it from her pocket. She hadn’t had the decency to glance at it a single time with Nicole nor any interest to do so. But Wynonna’s shriek tears through the silence when Nicole pulls up to her dorm.

_Unread Messages (42)_

_Missed Calls (27)_

“Oh, shit,” Waverly hissed. “Drive fast, maybe she won’t see me.”

“Waverly Earp, get your ass out of that car!”

“Hmm.” Nicole taps her fingers against the steering wheel. “I think it’s a bit too late for that. Do you want me to hit her with my car instead?”

“Nicole!” Waverly chastises. She fantasizes for a moment then shakes her head. “No, that’s ridiculous.”

Wynonna’s made it to the car as Waverly’s swings the door open, immediately engulfed in a hug that crushes her ribs and squeezes the breath from her lungs. “Jesus babygirl, you scared the _fuck_ out of me! I thought you’d been kidnapped! I thought you were dead in a ditch! Fuck you!”

Waverly coughs and forces herself from Wynonna’s iron grip. “No, I’m fine, I’m fine. I was just…”

On a date with Wynonna’s worst enemy, yes.

“You were a bit late so Nicole offered to drive me home.” She winces. Wynonna raises her eyebrows.

“I see. Haught.”

Nicole nods her head and salutes with two fingers from the driver’s seat. “Earp.”

“Took you three hours to drive my sister home when the field is a mile away?”

Nicole blows out a breath and shakes her head. Her hand goes to scratch the back of her head. “Killer traffic, man.”

Waverly offers her a weak grin.

 

“Haught? Are you serious?”

“Like you’re one to talk about romantic entanglements.” Waverly slouches against the passenger seat of Wynonna’s car and hugs her backpack over her chest. She’d wanted to bail to her dorm but Wynonna has insisted on a chat first, and Waverly didn’t really have to energy say no one of Wynonna’s chats.

Wynonna blows out a breath of hot air. “I’m not…I’m not mad at you for hanging out with her, babygirl.”

Waverly frowns.

“I’m serious, I’m not. I’m mad because you worried me. It’s my job to keep you safe and…” She blows out another breath and runs her hand through her hair. “So, uh. Girls now, huh?”

Despite herself, Waverly snorts. “I guess.”

“I mean, as far as they go, you got, uh. You got a pretty good looking one.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Waverly socks her in the shoulder. “It was _one_ date. We didn’t even kiss or anything. I don’t even—” She bites her lip and debates the credibility of her next second. Pretends not to notice that it’s a lie. “I don’t even like her like that, really. We just talked about soccer the whole time.”

“Oh yeah?” Wynonna cocks her head. “What about it? Recon mission was a go?”

Waverly laughs again and shakes her head. The heaviness in her chest has vanished and she convinces herself that it’s because she’s talking with Wynonna, has nothing to do with the topic. “Recon mission was a go.”

“So then what did you find out? Why is she so much better than everyone else?”

Waverly breaks out into a grin and tucks her chin into her blazer to hide her blush. “She follows the rules.”

 

They haven’t even kissed yet, for fuck’s sake, haven’t held hands in the hallways, only see each other in class or at practice. No more mango-peach dates to the dingy frozen yogurt shop. Sideways glances in classrooms where Nicole pulls a goofy face and Waverly has to stifle her laughter into her notes. Thinks about it for the rest of the day. After practice drives in Nicole’s car to drop Waverly off at her dorm. Sit in the car for an extra hour.

Then there’s the night when her subconscious throttles her, shows her the image of red hair between her legs and hands on her hips, fingers digging into her thighs, and Waverly wakes up drenched in her own sweat, a throbbing ache between her legs, and comes to a terrifying conclusion.

She’s helplessly in love with Nicole Haught.

 

She avoids Nicole the next day and the day after that. Skips practice to dive into her reading, doesn’t glance away from her notes when Nicole tries to make faces at her. Ignores the burn in her chest when Nicole’s face falls in Lucado’s class on Friday afternoon after failing to get her attention and pretends it doesn’t hurt her, too.

 

Nicole Haught loses her first game of the season the next day.

 

“Just tell me what I did.”

Her heart burns at the sound of defeat in Nicole’s voice. She wants to cram herself into her locker with her books and hide away. “Nicole,” she says softly. Her voice cracks.

“If I did something, if I hurt you…tell me,” Nicole tries again. The heartbreak in her voice is tangible.

“No, you didn’t do anything.” She tries to swerve around it, but Nicole steps closer.

“You went radio silence on me. You stopped coming to my practices, you won’t talk to me, you won’t even look at me in Lucado’s classroom anymore. What did I do? Was it something I said? Something I did?”

Waverly wants to cry, can feel the pressure building behind her eyelids and she shakes her head, more for herself than Nicole. Her mouth works before her mind does. “I broke the rules.”

Nicole blinks. “You…what?”

Waverly shakes her head again and squeezes the bridge of her knows to staunch the flow of tears. “I’m really sorry, Nicole. Thanks for the smoothie.”

“Waverly?”

She ducks her head and turns away before Nicole can see her cry.

 

“Haught?” Rosita shakes her for a second. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“Me?” Nicole swallows down the lump in her throat and finishes lacing up her cleats. “Yeah, no, I’m good. I’m fine. I’m just…nervous.”

“To play against Ghost River?” Rosita cocks her head. “Why? We’ve beaten them every time.”

_Wynonna will be there. Which means Waverly will be there._

Nicole feels like puking.

“Yeah, no, just some pre-game nerves. You know.” She throws a half convincing smile Rosita’s way and ducks out from the locker room into the bathrooms, throwing cold water over her face. _Relax, Haught. It’s any other game_. She splashes more cold water over her face to wash away any thoughts of Waverly, too, and pretends it works.

 

“Haught.” Even Wynonna, who usually has a snarl on her face for the majority of the game, raises her eyebrows when Nicole jogs out onto the field. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” she hisses. The ball is a far enough distance away that guarding Wynonna is her main focus at the moment, but also what she dreads the most.

“I’m serious.” Wynonna fakes left and dodges right; Nicole steps to her perfectly. “You look bad.”

“Fuck off,” Nicole hisses again. “Really not the time for this conversation!”

The ball’s close enough that she snakes left around Wynonna and steals it from Eliza Shapiro, who looks like she’d rather have gutted Nicole than let her take the ball. Of course Wynonna’s on her heel almost instantly; she’s one hell of a player, really, better than Eliza or anyone else on the Ghost River team.

She’s the only goddamn person she’s ever felt challenged with, until Waverly stepped into the picture.

It’s a mistake, thinking about it. Her foot hits the back of her heel and she goes down hard, elbow cracking against the ground. Wynonna’s gotten the ball in a heartbeat and torn the other direction.

She thinks she can hear Waverly gasp from somewhere in the audience.

She forces herself to her feet with a grunt, shakes out her arm, blames her trip on Wynonna’s talent rather than her own misstep.

She damn well knows Wynonna didn’t touch her.

Rosita manages to steal the ball back from Wynonna and sends it sailing across the field to Nicole. It’s a few easy seconds of dribbling and the ball sinks into the goal.

It’s not wishful thinking. Waverly’s definitely cheering.

 

Half time is over before it even starts and Wynonna’s already on her heels again. “You don’t trip, I’ve never once seen you trip,” she says.

“Back off,” Nicole snarls. She trains her eyes on the ball and pointedly not on Waverly.

Wynonna’s pushing forwards and she’s falling prey to it but she’s too engrossed in trying to be in the game to care; she lets herself be guided backwards as she tries to focus on the movement of the game.

“What the hell is going on with you, Haught?” Wynonna asks again. Nicole can feel red beginning to cloud her vision, so she shakes her head.

“I said back off!”

The referee’s whistle blows and she’s not quite sure why, but then Wynonna says, “Is it because of Waverly?”

Then Wynonna’s hitting the ground with blood coming out of her nose and Nicole’s fist hurts, and it’s not hard to put two and two together. “Foul!” someone screams.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. Wynonna blinks from the ground, hands cupping over her nose. “Wynonna, I—”

“Off the field, seven!” One of the refs shrieks. “Medic for twelve!”

“Wynonna, I’m so sorry,” Nicole tries again. She can’t stop staring at her hand, the swelling of her knuckles.

Wynonna had backed her into the goalie’s box.

 

Nicole Haught loses her second game of the season. She’s got ice on her knuckles and a headache and somehow none of it rivals the brutal beating of her heart against her ribcage.

“Haught,” Wynonna says. One of her eyes are blackened and there’s dried blood on her chin that she either didn’t notice or was too lazy to clean off. She holds an ice pack to her nose.

Nicole glances up from where she’d been drooped over on the bench in the locker room, leg shaking and mind reeling. “Wynonna, I am so sorry, I never meant—”

Wynonna holds her hand up for a second and Nicole shuts up. Probably for the best. “You didn’t break it,” she says, gesturing to her nose.

Nicole’s shoulders sag in relief.

“Got me damn good though.”

“Yeah, I—”

“Mm.” Wynonna shushes her again with another hand. “You didn’t let me finish, either.” She ambles over and takes a seat next to Nicole, leaning back up against the wall and sighing. “You gave me what I deserved.”

Nicole blinks.

“Few weeks ago I got an email from Purgatory Prep. They said if Ghost River could get a win against them, they’d transfer me. I’d have to work twice as hard on my grades to stay in the school, but I’d play varsity no problem.” She takes another breath and winces as it strains her nose. “So clearly, I wanted to fucking win, and you were the only thing standing in my way. So I backed you into the goalie’s box because I needed you out of the game. That was my only chance of beating you.”

“And I punched you in the face.”

Wynonna laughs and winces again. “You sure did. It was a dick move. I threw you off your game by bringing up…what I brought up and then I got you a penalty, all so I could get transferred over. So, uh.” She slaps a hand over Nicole’s knee. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…thanks. For keeping me in line.”

It’s Nicole’s turn to wince. “Guess I’ll be seeing you in classes, then. Since Ghost River won and all that.”

Wynonna rolls her eyes and makes her way to the door. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. Anyway.” She throws one last look over her shoulder. “Take good care of my sister.”

“Oh.” Nicole can feel her cheeks reddening ever so slightly as she twists her knuckles together. “We’re not…it’s not really—”

“I know,” Wynonna says, then disappears from the locker room.

 

“Hey.”

Nicole’s heart drops into her stomach. Her knuckles hurt considerably less from her talk with Wynonna. She doesn’t need to turn to recognize the voice. “Hey,” she says.

The moon tucks itself behind a cloud, just in case things go wrong.

“So.” Waverly rocks back on her heels and glances around the parking lot for a moment. “You, uh. You punched my sister in the face.”

Nicole stares at her for a moment to see if she’s got anything else to say, but that’s apparently it. “I did,” she says slowly.

“Yeah.” Waverly scratches the back of her head. “You’ve got an excellent right hook, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air for a second before Nicole quirks her eyebrows. “Is that all you came here to say…?”

“No! No. Uh.” She laughs nervously. “I actually. I came here to apologize. For. Um. Well, for everything, really.”

Nicole’s heart slams against her ribcage and ignores the fact that it’s louder than the sound of the crickets chirping from the field. “Oh.”

Waverly’s chest swells and sinks as she breathes in heavily. “Right, well. That was really all I came here for, so, I’ll just—”

“Waverly?” Nicole’s bag hits the concrete with a thud. “That’s not—I don’t think that’s all you came here for.”

“Well.” Waverly plays with her fingers for a moment. “Do you remember when you asked me out, and I said yes because I wanted to know why you did everything the way you did?”

Of course she remembers.

“It wasn’t true,” Waverly breathes. Her words heap from her mouth. “That was a reason, but I mean, it wasn’t, it wasn’t the _only_ reason, you know?”

“No?” Nicole tries.

“There was one more,” Waverly says, and Nicole’s surprised to notice the hiccup in her voice.

“One more what?”

She says it so quickly Nicole’s not positive she’s heard it correctly. “One more reason.”

Then Waverly surges forward and presses her lips to Nicole’s and Nicole is wrapping her arms around Waverly’s waist and hoisting her up. It’s so much better than she’d first pictured it; Waverly’s lips are soft and perfect and her hands are twining themselves through Nicole’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I love you, I’m sorry.”

Full stop.

“I love you,” Waverly continues. She pulls away and wraps her legs around Nicole’s hips, pulls against the back of her neck. “I love you and I’m so fucking terrified of it; loving you terrifies me, _you_ terrify me.”

Nicole shakes her head, eyes wide.

“And I thought if I just ignored it it would go away and we could go back to what we were doing.”

“I scare you?” Nicole breathes.

“Yes, god.” Waverly buries her face in Nicole’s shoulder. “More than anything. And I’m sorry it took me so damn long to figure that out. You followed rules and I didn’t, and I was scared that this broke one of them.”

“They can’t hurt you if you don’t break the the rules,” Nicole says softly.

“Sometimes you hurt them if you do,” Waverly replies.

She’s not sure who leaned in first, but they’re kissing again and one of Nicole’s hands is sliding against her backside while the other presses her against the door of the car.

 

Maybe, Nicole decides as Waverly falls asleep against her chest that night, sometimes breaking the rules is worth it if it means getting to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> still got more fics coming atcha so keep ya eyes peeled
> 
> kudos and comments are always super appreciated!


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